Teaching Me to Dance
by Unashamed1
Summary: For Winnie Foster, the Wheel is turning again. To be allowed new love, she will have to  confront memories of Jesse Tuck and her fifteenth summer...AN: More to come, especially if there is interest. Reviews and thoughts very much appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Teaching Me to Dance

"_Time is like a wheel…"_

"_As Tuck told Winnie Foster the summer she turned 15, 'Do not fear death, only the un-lived life'" (_Tuck Everlasting)

Winnie left her desk and went to the window. She'd woken up early with something on the edge of her mind, but for the last hour it had refused to come back to her, as if it knew that allowing itself to be put on paper would mean losing its power. A blue jay was crying outside, and Winnie held her breath a moment as the tugging at her memory resumed, willing it to move forward, afraid of frightening it back to its hiding place. It had whispered to her in her sleep. Anyone else might have let the voice go, but Winnie Foster had learned better.

She leaned her arms on the railing and stared at open grass and a few trees under a white-gold sunrise. To her left she heard leaves rustle; no doubt where the blue jay was hiding. So much of the land had been cleared since her father died. The woods were still there-just a little receded. Perhaps she would have the gardeners re-plant some new trees this spring, up closer to the house. She was not sure why, but watching the woods roll away made her sad.

_You own these woods?_ The thought came out of nowhere, making her start a little. It may as well have been a voice next to her ear, for all the control she'd had over it. Suddenly, something in her wanted to hear that voice again. She felt herself blush as she muttered angrily at the trees,

"Hear what voice? Ridiculous-you can't reproduce a trick of the mind." A few minutes later, Winnie shifted and tried to watch the reel inside her head as the illusive memory came slowly back. She stood as still as possible, waiting to see if she could regain what had been teasing her for hours.

In the back of her memory, she heard the music: the simple beating of a stick against a rock and the movement of human feet. She raced back to the desk as it filled her senses, the real world forgotten for something much more substantial.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_June 15__th__, 19--_

_I haven't done much dancing in my life. This was especially true when I was a girl; mother never saw the need for me to learn. I've danced with Thomas then, of course, but it's all been waltzes and the like-the sort of thing mother would approve of. The realities of my life made that night in the woods with Jesse Tuck more than a simple rebellious excursion. _

Winnie's hand froze as she stared at the desk in front of her without really seeing it. She came back to herself only after she noticed the thick drops of black ink marring the page after her last word. She carelessly used the white lace handkerchief she kept in her sleeve on them before returning to her task.

_It was a glimpse of heaven-rare and true, almost perfection on earth. _Grasping at the threads her mind gave her, the feeling of the pen in her hand and the words on the page became her only bridge between reality and memory. _The wind was warm. The occasional serenade from an owl, or raven, or whatever it was, seemed to be coming from the stars themselves. Somewhere, I could swear I smelled Jasmine. Whether that was my imagination, I don't remember, but the silence itself was intoxicating._

_Shadows from the fire flickered on the rocks. Light moved in and out, left patches of shadow in its place. It was the only man-made light we had or needed. It made the world around me glow a soft white-orange. My dress had…gotten wet, I think, and I was wearing nothing but a chemise, my corset and one petticoat. Not even my shoes. _

Slowly, she remembered the feeling of cold, hard dirt on bare skin. It had been easy to dance on that rock, easier than she would have imagined. It was almost as if the ground were inviting her to do so. She looked down again as the smell of smoke and the crackling of dead leaves under foot returned to her. _The world was opening its arms to me that night, inviting me to take up my part in the splendor of, 'all that had been made.' For once, I had the opportunity to dive into the delicious reality of what happened around me every day, the things I had been brought up not to notice. _

_My chemise was white. I remember, because I noticed how starkly I contrasted with all of the brown and gray and green around me. Fine white cotton and a thread of pink silk along the bottom: I had always wondered why people took the trouble to put beautiful things where no one could see. My hair framed my face when I looked down; brown silk with the light from the fire reflected off of it. It curled gently when it was allowed to go free-I had hardly seen that before. I think that was the greatest pleasure of all, looking back-the simple freedom of being able to see my own hair fall along my arms and onto my shoulders. I was looking away from the fire, listening to the bird crying in the distance, before the music started behind me. _

"They're playing for you." Again, the memory of a human voice tumbled in on her thoughts. She shook the words off gently and, choosing not to write them down, focused on the page.

_He started tapping on a rock with the stick he was holding. Once I picked out the rhythm I started swaying to it. I smiled over at him and he picked up the pace, daring me, I suppose, to dance. I remember spinning a little, moving from my spot. I danced alone for a while, and then the music stopped… _

The memory of what happened next encroached on her, unwelcome and unwanted. She could feel her cheeks coloring and a sharp tugging at her heart that she could not identify. She was still trying to find a name for it when she was shaken awake by the sound of her own name.

"Winnie!" The rumble of someone bounding up the stairs made her snap back to attention and turn toward the door. Seconds later, Thomas Jackson leaned in with a lop-sided grin, his sandy hair slightly tussled by the excursion up the steps.

"Are you sure you want fly about like that?" Winnie smiled back as she pushed herself to her feet. "I'm surprised Mother isn't already having a conniption fit."

"I try not to fly in polite circles if I can help it," he answered, still leaning on the door, "but I should think that your mother would be used to me by now." Winnie nodded, laughing, as Thomas caught his breath. "Terribly sorry if I startled you, but I was hoping you would join me in the garden. Gabriel has been begging me to teach her croquet all summer, and when I told her that you play better than I do, she insisted you join us for the first lesson." Thomas unsuccessfully fought a smile, and Winnie realized that the excuse was part ruse. The main reason for her presence had little to do with Gabriel.

"It would be my honor." Thomas nodded and offered his arm to escort her out. Turning to get her handkerchief from the desk, Winnie saw the open book on the table, and the flash of memory that had been wooing her moments earlier returned to her mind. She hoped that Thomas didn't see the slight, determined shake of her head as she closed the book and returned the handkerchief to its place. She focused her eyes back on him and tried to smile, leaving the memory in the room behind her as he led her out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Now, I'm too proud to beg for reviews …oh, who I am kidding? I'm kneeling on Mrs. Foster's fainting couch asking for some feedback, here! Seriously, I'd love to hear from you: do you love the tone or hate it, should I have stopped at the first chapter or not, etc.? Comments make my day. Sorry for the time gap; this chapter took longer to simmer.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Tuck Everlasting or any of the characters, lines of dialogue, images, objects, etc. that you recognize from it (including the sir name, "Jackson"). I own only the plot and the characters you do not recognize

"_Want to spend forever with me, Winnie?"_

It was nearly sundown before Winnie had peace again. After the guests had left, she made an excuse to her mother (who hadn't failed to notice, and comment on, the ink stain on her sleeve) and slipped away for some solitude. Now, she pushed herself away from the window and returned to the desk and her open book. The memories were still crowding in on her. In fact, they had been intruding on golden moments all afternoon. Charles had brought her a newly opened rose from the garden when her mother wasn't looking, and she'd almost been robbed of the enjoyment of it by the sudden memory of a long-discarded kiss. After that, she'd gone so quiet that Charles had kept asking after her condition. An hour later, she'd told him she loved him -so abruptly that she made him miss his shot (not that he had minded much).

With a fresh lamp lit, Winnie stared down at the page, letting the phantoms roll over in her mind.

"This kind does not come out except with pen and paper," she muttered ironically. Holding the pen almost threateningly, as if promising her specters that she would best them, Winnie took a deep breath and began with the first one she could find.

_June 15__th__, 19—_

_'Want to spend forever with me, Winnie?' _ The offer had returned to her out of nowhere, brining on its heels opportunities and choices that she had chosen to let fade years ago. It had taken time, but Winnie remembered now. She remembered dark, flashing eyes and a courage beyond her imagination…and someone who had offered her a world much larger and wider than her own. For the first time in a hundred years, what was left of fifteen-year-old Winnie Foster inside of her began to remember Jesse Tuck.

_I danced for a few moments, and then the tapping stopped. Seconds later I was being spun, smoothly and a little recklessly, enclosed in a strong grip. When my feet left the ground, I was strangely unalarmed; in fact, I leaned into him and spun faster. _Suddenly, cool wind on a warm face and bare arms felt very real. For just a minute, something in her spirit was fed and warmed by the memory of delicious freedom. She took another breath, and savored a feeling that she hoped never to lose again. Slowly, she remembered the heart of a fifteen-year-old girl, and the choices it makes…

_Did I love Jesse Tuck? Yes, of course; but with a child's love, with a hart that had been locked up for too long, and was experiencing much of life for the first time. Jesse was a breath of new air. He was a whisper to my soul, something to remind me that there was more to hope for than the safe and structured world I had been given. How could I avoid loving him? To me, he was freedom and __life_But, of course, he was none of those things; no mere human could be. The years had taught her that. _He was the image of it for me; reflected it like clear water mirrors back white-gold sunlight. I will admit, he did this well-but no more. He woke me up so that I would not miss it when real life, and real love, came to me. _

"I thank you for that, Jesse," Winnie mused almost absent-mindedly to the empty room. She shook her head briefly and moved on.

_Now, really, do I love Charles Jackson? Yes, I believe I do. He has been the best friend I have ever had. But of course, I know that I cannot just let go of Jesse Tuck. Something has to be done for him. _Suddenly a little tired, Winnie stopped and leaned her wrist on the page…and in a moment, she knew what that, 'something,' was.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hello, everyone (an especially to Flirtation 101, who put this story in his/her favorites and alert lists. Thank you-you helped motivate me to finish this! I hope you are reading, and I hope that anyone with feedback will drop by and comment! I'm sorry for the wait, but once it was written, I wanted to step away for a few days, so I could make better revisions. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 4

"_Winnie Foster, I will love you… until the day I die."_

Charles arrived on the Foster property around dusk. He stood for a few minutes, staring at the house and then back at the folded letter in his hand, wondering if it was wise to simply go the door at this hour. Feeling the wind kick up behind him, he was about to take his chances when Winnie came up on his side from the servant's entrance. He noticed briefly that the coat she had chosen covered everything from her collar down to her shoes.

"I got your letter. Is everything alright?" his voice was a balance of concern and professional inquiry. She smiled softly in the sinking light.

"Everything's fine; I just…have something I would like to show you." She paused, unsure of what she was going to say even as she spoke. Winnie had been practicing this speech all afternoon, preparing for the inevitable moment of explanation, but somehow, the right words had never come. She still hadn't decided if she was going to tell him everything about Jesse. "I once told you… about the day I got lost in the family woods."

"I remember," he nodded and smiled gently, wanting to encourage her even as he wondered at the reason for her discomfort. "You were kidnapped, as I recall."

"Yes, but before that…I…I discovered something back then, that I wanted you to see. I think you'll love it almost as much as I did."

Charles smiled slowly as understanding hit him.

"If it meant so much to you, I'm sure I will." He offered his hand as the sky turned orange-red behind him, outlining dark trees in the distance. "Lead the way, darling."

The sun had set and the world had quieted by the time Winnie and Charles found the rock. She wasn't sure how, but she knew she it was the same place. The stars were out, obscured by treetops in the center of the woods, but on incredible display in the open sky once outside. Winnie heard a dove call loudly over the trees, and felt something familiar go through her-a delicious peace- mixed- with- anticipation that had been rather foreign for several years. It reminded her of her moment of freedom, but it didn't bring with it memories of Jesse; this was a memory all its own, something insulated and almost sacred from any other experience.

She risked a glance at Charles; he craned his gaze upward contentedly, taking in the night splendors as only the woods could present them. He was obviously enjoying himself, being here, being with her, but nothing in his actions or his eyes reflected what she was feeling. She didn't expect it. He didn't know what had transpired here, and once again, she wondered if he really needed to.

"It's beautiful," he whispered as she turned her eyes to the fallen flower petals and rich earth that covered the place where their fire once stood. No decayed leaves this time of year, "but I'm curious; why did you bring me here? Why is this place so special to you?" There was no frustration or demand in his voice; only sincere, gentle curiosity.

Winnie looked up at him and chose her words carefully. She was somewhat prepared for this.

"All of the things we have in common, everything you've shown me-love, freedom, a taste of the airing of the soul-this was where I felt most of those things for the first time… Now, I wanted to share this place with you." She waited for something-questions about Jesse, or a flash of hurt or jealousy. Instead, there was only that soft smile that she had come to love and take comfort in.

"Who brought you here?" The question wasn't malicious; in fact, he sounded utterly relaxed, simply enjoying this opportunity to learn some small new thing about her.

"His name was Jesse," she said passively, "an old friend. I haven't thought of him, or this place, in years." _But lately the memories have been calling to me. _

"Jesse," he tried the name on for size, and Winnie thought she saw the faintest flicker of sadness in his eyes; it was gone too fast for her to tell. "Jesse who?" She thought for a moment, honestly unable to pull the name from her memory.

"Tuck," she said finally. "Yes, that's it."

"Jesse Tuck," he echoed, and nodded, as though pronouncing it a fine sir name. "And you loved him?"

"Like children do," she remembered the realizations that had come from wrestling with her phantoms. He smiled down at her, his hair momentarily rustled by a passing breeze.

"And he helped teach you all those things?"

"He gave me my first taste," the words were for Jesse, but the smile was for Charles.

"Then God bless Jesse Tuck." His pronouncement visibly startled her. His eyes softened a little as he moved on. "I'm inclined to bless anyone that helped bring a little freedom to my girl," he explained. "Your open spirit had to come from somewhere; and if Tuck was a party to that, so be it…not that I want him coming to dinner after the wedding." She laughed and took his hands. He looked at her thoughtfully a minute, but she didn't have time to read his expression before he added, "Just as long as you're still mine, of course." His voice was a little softer this time, and something in his eyes had changed.

She squeezed his hands and thought about making the simple observation that crossed her mind at the moment, but realized as she opened her mouth that it wasn't necessary. He knew it; he had heard it enough before.

"Would you like to dance?" she asked him instead. A mischievous smile crossed her face as she observed his confusion. She would tell him the rest of the story later; relive the memory of her freedom with him, and enjoy his rejoicing over her. But for now, other business needed attending to.

He nodded his acceptance, and she led him out into the open space where a fire had stood all those centuries ago. No player supplied the rhythm on the rocks this time, but there was no need. Charles took her hand and led her in a waltz they had learned together on a neighbor's dance floor shortly after they became friends. They laughed over the formal steps and decidedly informal setting for a few minutes; then he slowly turned her around, and began timing his steps to the tune he was whistling into the air.

Winnie started a little as she recognized it; she felt her muscles tighten and then relax, remembering that those things didn't need to be a secret from Charles anymore. To spite that, though, as he continued to whistle next to her ear, she couldn't resist the desire confirm what she was hearing.

"That's lovely," she whispered to him. It was true. The profound, gentle notes were welcome to her spirit and easing to her mind, even as they stirred certain phantoms from sleep. "Where did you hear it?"

"Actually, from you. I heard you humming it one day, and I suppose it's just never left." Winnie understood this; at that moment she realized that the notes from May Tuck's little music box still played in her mind, too. She laid her head on Charles's shoulder and let them become his as his voice played them back for her.

Winnie and Charles stayed out on the rock longer than planned. While Charles attempted to light kindling that Winnie had found under the trees, she ventured toward a group of smaller boulders to find something to encircle the fire. The warm summer air brushed past her face and teased the loose curls of her hair-Charles had never seen it completely down before, but was more than pleased with the effect when she'd insisted on it. As she bent down to scan for smooth rocks, still smiling as she pictured the look on his face, the offer returned to her again. The words of the first man to make her smile in this clearing made their way up from the back of her mind.

_You want to spend forever with me, Winnie?_

She took a breath as something warmed inside her. This was the moment she had waited for, had hoped would come ever since the day the memories began reappearing; and she was glad it was here. She was letting him go.

For that moment, it was just her and the question…and she shook her head, still smiling. She knew Jesse Tuck was still out their, somewhere, but it didn't matter now. She could still take the offer; but she didn't want it.

"No," she whispered contentedly, not sure why she spoke aloud. She glanced behind her at Charles' continuing work on the flint, and turned back only after she saw a hint of success. "But thank you, Jesse Tuck…for teaching me to dance."

She walked back with two pockets full of smooth stones. Charles put down the flint and helped her arrange them, and once they'd closed the circle, she caught his eyes, unable to keep a slow smile from her lips.

"Want to spend forever with me, Charles?" She was expecting the moment of confusion, but she wasn't expecting him to recover so quickly. The look faded after a few seconds; he was obviously getting used to her impetuousness. Smiling, he got up from where he was kneeling over the stones and walked over, sliding his arms around her back.

"As much of forever as I have, Winnie Foster, is absolutely yours."

"_Tuck said it to Winnie the summer she turned 15. '…You don't have to live forever-you just have to live.'_

_And she did."_

_(Tuck Everlasting)_


End file.
